A Scandal On Baker Street
by RainbowZombieApocolypse
Summary: When John returns home after what seems like a normal day, he finds that Sherlock has brought home a baby. But the detective is acting strange about the situation. Are the child and Sherlock somehow linked to one another? Title may change, as well as rating.
1. Chapter 1

Everything was normal today. John was riding home from his normal job at the clinic after a normal chat with Sarah in a normal taxi cab with a normal; non psychotic, non mass murdering cabby. He got out of that cab at Baker street, address 221B, and paid the fair. Yes, today seemed to be just an average day. At least, that's what John thought. When he climbed up the steps and pushed open the door to 221B, the normality of his day came crashing down on him. He heard crying.

Not just any crying, the unmistakable high pitched, wailing cries of a baby. Normal had just gone down the drain. John climbed up the flight of steps to the second landing, thrusting his key into the door and flung it open. There he saw his flatmate, perched on his leather armchair and balancing a laptop on his thighs. In the other chair however, lay the source of the crying; a small baby wearing a light blue onesie wrapped in a dark orange blanket.

"John." Sherlock greeted, not lifting his eyes from the computer screen and certainly not paying any mind to the baby that was in their flat.

"You have a baby." John murmured, stunned.

"Excellent observation."

"A /baby/!?"

Sherlock looked up now. "Yes. What of it?"

John looked at him, appalled. "What of it? Sherlock, there's a /baby/ in our flat! A real, human baby. Where on earth did you even get a baby?"

"Lestrade let me take him home."

John looked at him expectantly, awaiting an explanation.

Sherlock sighed. "I was at a case. Double murder, both parents shot in the back of the head." He said continuing to type away at the computer, which upon further observation, John noticed was his. "The home was looted, anything of value taken by the killer."

"And the baby?" John asked again, still unknowing why Sherlock had taken the infant home with him.

"Evidence."

"Evidence?"

"Yes, of course. He is the most valuable piece of evidence that the crime scene possessed."

John rolled his eyes. "What? Do you expect him to /tell/ you who the killer is?"

"Don't be absurd, I solved it within an hour. It was easy enough to find the killer, even Anderson could have managed to-"

"Then if you solved the case, why do you have the baby?"

Sherlock was quiet quiet.

John awaited his answer.

"He's part of a different case." Was all Sherlock offered, looking back down at the laptop, a hard look on his face.

John sighed. He recognized that look. That was all he was going to get out of the detective until more information was found. Sherlock hated to give assumptions.

As if he'd now decided the child was harmless, John went over to pick up the still crying baby, cradling him and hushing him until his cries turned to soft whimpers.

"Have you ever even taken care of a baby?" John asked, rocking the child as if he actually knew what he was doing. The baby stopped crying, so he supposed he was doing something right.

"Of course not." Sherlock replied, scrolling through some web page about child care.

John rolled his eyes and sighed. "I still can't believe Lestrade let you take home a baby." He murmured, glancing towards Sherlock.

"I had my reasons." The detective replied.

The tone Sherlock had used, like there was some deep, dark secret he was keeping made John rather curious, but he ignored the remark. "So," He began, "we're going to be dads for the time being?"

Sherlock's eyes flickered up to John. "What makes you think I planned to include you?"

John's lips twitched a bit into a smile. The question wasn't harsh, or even meant to be rude. It was just a simple question. "Because you left him be on the couch while he was crying, obviously waiting for me to come home and take care of it. Not to mention that bag next to his carrier only has one can of formula and three nappies. Not nearly enough, I'm afraid." John told Sherlock who looked away sheepishly. "Lucky for you I actually have a bit of experience with caring for children."

Sherlock's own lips nearly turned into a small grin, liking how John's deductive skills were slowly getting more indepth. Not nearly as mush as Sherlock would have liked, but he supposed it was some sort of progression.

"I thought child care would be right up your alley. You being a doctor."

John crinkled his eyebrows. He'd seen at least a few babies and small children at the clinic, and while he had a certain warmth in his heart for small children, that didn't mean he had any idea how to actually care for one longterme. It certainly didn't make him an expert in this certain field of work.

"But what about custody then? I mean, we're not even together, how will this work?"

"Last time I checked, two people didn't have to actually /be/ together to raise a child." Sherlock replied, and even though the detective was good at hiding his emotions, John could tell something was off.

"Then child protective services? I mean, can we even legally adopt him? Our work isn't exactly secure." John questioned.

"I had Mycroft pull some strings. Legal or not, there are papers saying that the child is officially ours."

"Ours?"

"Yes. You said so yourself, I was going to include you in the child's developpement from the very start."

"You must really want to keep him." John said.

Sherlock once again stayed silent.

Giving a small huff, John finally agreed. "Fine, alright." He said, before turning his gaze back to the baby. The idea was still ridiculous in his mind, but even now he couldn't say no to Sherlock. "So what's his name?"

"Don't know."

"What?"

"It's not like he came with a tag, how am I supposed to guess?"

John crinkled his brows. "He needs a name though."

"Can we not just refer to him as 'The Child'?"

"Sherlock..."

"Alright fine." Sherlock grumbled, thinking it over for a moment. "Hamish."

"Hamish?" John repeated. "But that's my middle name."

"Precisely."

John gave a small shake of his head, smiling just the tiniest bit. "Alright then. Welcome to Baker street Hamish."

**Author's Note : Terrible beginning, I know. I suck at first chapters. Still, I hope it interests you somewhat, I've had this idea in my head for a little while and it may seem innocent now, but it's going to get a bit darker as the chapters progress...spoilers. Anyway, reviews are very welcome! A lot of the time the amount of reviews I get can influence my update frequency so if you want more chapters then gimme lots and lots of reviews =P Until next time!  
~RZA**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sat at his makeshift lab in the dining room, voraciously scanning the contents of a petri dish under his microscope. The solution to his newest case depended on wether or not he could locate a certain chemical compound in the sample of soil taken from the crime scene.

Now, Sherlock enjoyed a challenge; deciphering codes, solving puzzles, all things that provided sufficient stimuli to his brain. What he didn't enjoy, as he soon learned, was attempting to do these things with the screams of the new addition to the Baker Street lot. Sherlock shot a glare at John, who was attemping to console the whining child, petting and bouncing him which didn't seem to have any effect at all.

"John, make it stop!" Sherlock demanded, giving his flatmate a pointed look.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" John replied indignantly, holding the crying child against his chest as he tried to soothe him.

Sherlock groaned, getting up off his chair and stomped towards the living room. "Give me him." He said, urging John to hand over the infant.

John clung to the baby, hesitant to hand him over.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I'm not going to hurt it, I'm going to make it stop that infernal noise making!"

"_You're _going to try and settle him?" He said, shocked that Sherlock would even consider it. Since the baby's arrival, just less then a week ago, the detective had refused to hold him or show any interest in parenting despite the whole thing being his idea initially.

"Well you're certainly not able to." He shot back, taking the child from John and holding him at arms length, as if inspecting him before he cradled him to his chest, like John had done. Hamish sniffed a bit, but his crying did subside. "Hm. I seem to have found an off switch." Sherlock commented, looking at the child curiously.

"Very funny." John sighed sarcastically. He was a bit envious that Sherlock had been able to quiet the baby so easily after he's spend a good twelve minutes trying to hush him. "Seems like you have a way with children."

Sherlock huffed, extending his arms to return the child to John.

"No no, you hold him. He seems to be enjoying it." The doctor pointed out, glancing at the baby who was now nuzzling into Sherlock's chest.

"You can't be serious."

"I am serious."

"But John! I'm working on an imprtant case! I can't...I can't _babysit_!"

"Hey, you brought him home in the first place and said we were going to be parents." John shot back. "_You _need to start pulling your own weight in this."

"But -"

"No 'buts'."

Sherlock groaned in defeat, taking Hamish back over to his microscope. If he had to take care of the child he was at least going to get some work done.

John gave a sigh of relief. It was the first break he'd had since Sherlock had brought the child home.

"I'll be in the bath if you need me." John told his flatmate (and now partner in parenthood), intending to get as much relaxation out of his break as possible.

Sherlock didn't offer a response, trying to fix the intesity of the microscope's lense while also attempting to hold the baby, finding the task rather difficult.

"Alright then." John said, leaving Sherlock to sulk while he grabbed a book and headed to the washroom.

Sherlock continued to search through the sample of dirt, keeping his eyes open for the familiar botulinum toxin he'd become an expert in finding.

"Yes! Got it!" He shouted when he found the familiar molecular structure he slammed his fist on the table in victory, the loud sound waking and startling the baby into another fit.

Sherlock looked down in slight panic at the infant's squalling, holding Hamish as he squirmed to make sure the delicate child didn't wiggle too much and fall out of his lap.

Steps thudded down the hall and John came rushing into the kitchen, still dripping wet and a towel held around his waist.

"I left you alone with his for five minutes. _Five bloody minutes!_" John cried dubiously, practically ripping the child out of Sherlock's grasp.

"It's hardly my fault, how was I to know my success would cause such a violent outbusrt?" Sherlock replied in his defence, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Shut up, Sherlock." John hissed, holding Hamish to his wet chest.

Sherlock glanced at the good doctor up and down. "I think you should know that -"

"I said _shut up_."

"Yes but has it occured to you -"

"I don't want to here it!"

Sherlock resumed his defiant position for a moment before standing up.

"Fine." He said, passing by John who was still trying to comfort the wailing child. Resting his hand on the door frame, picking something up off the floor as he turned to look back at John.

"I was just going to inform you that in your haste, your towel had fallen."

John paled, spinning around on his heel to see Sherlock flaunting the towel that _had _been around his waist.

John's face turned bright red as he ripped the cloth out of his flatmate's hand, giving him a glar that Sherlock simply returned with a smirk before heading to the living room.

**Author's Note : Haha, chapter 2! Figured I'd leave a comedic end. Didn't exactly flow as easily as I would have liked but I still like this chapter quite a bit. I hope you guys do too and that you leave me a nice review saying what you think! Until next time.**

**~RZA**


	3. Chapter 3

John climbed up the stairs, hands full of grocery bags from his latest trip to Tesco's. They were now stocked with diapers, formula some hydrochloric acid and anything else either the baby or Sherlock would need. He grunted as he lifted the bags onto the kitchen table, catching his breath.

"You know, you could help me with the shopping once in a while." He called out as he walked toward the living room but got no response.

"Sherlock?"

John poked his head into the living room, the area void of either the detective or baby Hamish. He checked the kitchen again, and then Hamish's crib, and then the detective's bedroom and then his own bedroom.

There was no sign of either of them and no note.

[x]

"Show me the body."

"Oh er...are you sure? I mean, -"

"Molly."

Molly nodded at the tone, pulling aside the sheet covering the victim's body in order to let Sherlock take a look.

Sherlock stood waiting, balancing a sleepy Hamish on his hip and pounced into action the second that the body was unveiled.

"Excellent, hold this." He said, handing Hamish over to the pathologist who uttered a surprised squeak as she was given the child.

Sherlock whiped out his magnifying glass and began analysing the body, focused on the swollen heap of dead flesh.

Water logged, obviously drowned. Wait. Bruises on his left arm, nose dislodged out of place and his right finger broken, there had been a struggle then and -

"So who are you sitting for?"

Sherlock looked up, broken from his concentration by Molly's question. "Pardon?"

The brunette looked down a bit sheepishly, wetting her lips. "The baby, I mean."

"Ah. Yes, of course." Sherlock said before returning to his work, keeping his mind open for conversation. "Not baby sitting."

Molly blinked, a look of confusion appearing on her face. "O-oh." She finally said, her expression becoming gloomy. "Yours, right. Well, he does look like you. I should have figured."

Sherlock didn't anwer.

"Well, he's very cute." She said with a half sincere smile, glancing towards Hamish. "Who's his mother?"

Sherlock was about to tell her that he'd finished with the body and would be on his way when he heard his mobile ringing. He picked it up and answered it.

"Hello."

"Where the _hell_ are you?"

"Ah, John. Done with the shopping?"

"Hamish is gone he's -"

"Don't worry, I took him."

"Took him?"

"Yes."

"Took him _where _exactly?"

"The morgue."

"The morgue!?"

"He's perfectly fine, I'm here because -"

"Sherlock, you don't just take a baby to a bloody morgue!"

"I don't see what the problem is. The age of reasoning is -"

"No, stop talking. I'm coming over there now. Dont. Move."

_click_

Sherlock lowered the phone from his ear, shoving it back into his pocket. Molly still stood in place with the baby in her arms, feeling a bit awkward.

"Well, I guess that answers your question. I'll be taking that back." Sherlock said, grabbing Hamish from Molly.

"Question? I - What?"

"The child's 'mother'. Come now Hamish, we mustn't make mummy Watson angrier."

[X]

Sherlock received an earful from John on the cab drive home, that was certain. He barely paid attention to the rant of how childish and irresponsible he was and that often times John felt like Sherlock was the one who needed a baby sitter. When they finally arrived at home, John's rant continued.

"And another thing -" Though he was cut off by Sherlock shushing him, holding up a finger to his lips as he gestured for John to be quite.

"He's sleeping. I don't want your nagging to wake him." He said, placing the sleeping Hamish down in his cot that resided at the far end of the siting area.

John gave a huff, going across to sit in his chair. "I don't care if you think I'm nagging you Sherlock." John continued to scold his flatmate in a more hushed tone. "Children take mass amounts of responsibility, you can't just decide to be a parent and expect it to be easy, there are certain boundaries." He said, hoping he'd be able to make the detective understand.

"I didn't just decide." Sherlock muttered, glancing melancholically down at the child as he slept.

"What?" John asked, not certain if he'd heard Sherlock.

The other's head lifted up, as if he'd been snapped from some sort of dream. "Nothing." He muttered, going to his own chair and sat down.

John furrowed his brows but didn't question him further.

Sherlock had been acting...strange ever since he discovered Hamish at that crime scene. John still didn't have a clue as to why the other had magically decided to take the child home with him and raise him, it seemed to completely contrast his character. And the whole thing about evidence was foreign to John. What sort of evidence could a _baby _provide_? _Especially when the murder of the parents had been solved, according to Sherlock's earlier statment. The whole situation seemed so secretive.

John decided not to bring it up, figuring that whatever Sherlock was up to he'd find out eventually.

"I'm going to make some tea." The former army doctor said as he got up from his chair with a small grunt. "Do you want anything?"

"No."

"Alright then."

He wandered off towards the kitchen, getting out the kettle and two mugs, in case Sherlock changed his mind like he normally did, and set to making the tea.

Meanwhile Sherlock was on his laptop, checking a few things and responding to messages that Lestrade had sent, hounding him about whether or not he'd gotten any leads on the recent murder. Sherlock ignored the message and was about to log out of his account when the high pitched '_ding' _of a new e-mail sounded through the room. He took one look at the e-mail adress, from St. Bart's lab, and hastily opened it, scanning its contents.

The message showed results, DNA tests that he'd requested be done. Sherlock briefly looked over the e-mail, not caring about the content but just wanting to knew the results. As he scrolled further down he could see what he'd been fearing.

He and Hamish shared the same DNA.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock and John were on the case, investigating a crime scene that had occurred by the Thames near Waterloo. They had left little Hamish in the capable hands of Mrs. Hudson while they were out since John, despite Sherlock's emmenant persistance, refused to bring the baby to such a violent locating. But it was alright since their landlady seemed ecstatic to babysit the little bundle.

John was leaning over the murder victim's body, helping Sherlock determing the cause of death while Yard workers littered about, putting down yellow tape to secure the area.

John pressed gloved fingers underneath the victim's chin, tilting it back so that he could better examine the deep, purple bruises bruises around the thick coulumb of flesh and muscle.

"Definitely choked to death." He said, tracing his fongers along the marks. "But not hand shaped, so rope maybe? Or perhaps a belt?" He suggested, looking up at his flatmate.

"Hm..." Sherlock hummed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his trusty magnifying glass to get a closer look at the wound. "Yes, I agree with you." He said, closing the glass and put it back in his pocket. "Most likely the murder weapon was rope. You can tell by the scathes along the bruiseline, where the skin is all scratched up, like he'd suffered rug burns." He further explained.

Lestrade came over then, hands in his pockets as he approached the two. "Alright, times up. I need everything you got."

Before John could even open his mouth to offer an answer Sherlock was off like a firecracker, chattering and blarring facts at the DI who seemed to be struggling to keep up.

"Victim is in his mid thirties, strangled to death from, judging by the looks of it rope, that much is obvious." He said in his higher powered voice.

"Obvious..." Lestrade muttered.

"He's a gambler from what I can tell, so I'm guessing he owed people money. If I were you I'd start -"

"Wait. Hold on, a gambler?" Lestrade asked, dumbfounded.

"He's got a horseshoe pin on his tie and cuff links shaped like fourleaf clovers, of course he's a gambler." Sherlock rambled, expecting the other's to have seen it as clearly as he had. "And before you ask, I'm almost certain he's in dept because of the state of his suit." Sherlock said, waiting for the confused glances before going into detail. "Even now, after it's been soaked and ruined by the water, you can see how old and tattered his suit is. Now, if this man is as prestegious a gambler as I expect him to be, he'd wear his nicest clothes when he's betting, people do that, believe in ridiculous charms of luck. Now, if he had money to spare, then he'd have a much nicer suit then this one. It isn't even designer."

Lestrade nodded his head, finding that Sherlock's deductions seemed just. "But there are loads of casinos around in London, how are we suppose to find the right one?"

"The man had the number thirteen tattooed to his wrist. Thirteen is a lucky _chinese _number." Sherlock explained. "That narrows the field considerably." He said as he picked up his phone, quickly searching for chinese gambling bars in the area. "I'll follow behind you."

"Ah, no." John cut in, snapping off the plastic gloves. "You and I are stopping at home to pick up Hamish, then we're going out to do some shopping." He argued, looking at Sherlock pointedly.

"What? But John, the case!" Sherlock rebutted, acting like a five year old who wasn't getting their way.

"No 'buts' Sherlock, we're doing the shopping." John stated, looking at Sherlock firmly.

The detective grimaced and glanced towards Lestrade, hoping he'd use his Man-Of-The-Law authority to persuade John.

"Oh no, can't help you here mate." Said the DI, taking a few steps towards the disgruntled consulting detective and clapped a hand on his shoulder, a wide grin on his face. "Family first."

Sherlock growled, rolling his eyes. "Fine." He muttered, heading off to hail down a cab.

"Thank you." John said, giving Lestrade a relieved smile, happy that he wouldn't have to yell at Sherlock in order to get him to help with the errands.

"No problem." Lestrade replied, hands in his pockets as he looked over towards the distant detective. "So, you and him huh?" He said, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

"Yes. No! Well...sort of." John sputtered, scratching the back of his head. "We're not actually together, we're just raising Hamish together."

Lestrade gave an unconvinced hum before speaking. "You can believe I was as surprised as anyone when Sherlock decided to take home the little guy. At first I thought it was going to be for some sort of experiment. Is he any good? You know, at parenting."

John shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to say. He's pretty decent the few times he's actually held the baby, but that's not enough to go by." John mumbled, facing the same direction as his friend.

"If he doesn't want to care for the lad then I don't see why you two won't put him up for adoption, he's not even yours."

"I don't know either, I tried talking to him about it but he refuses." John said before frowning. He himself had been getting attached to Hamish, but with how time consuming and attention seeking a baby was he didn't know how he could do it without Sherlock's help for much longer. "When he first brought Hamish home he said something about evidence for another case, do you know anything about that?"

Lestrade shook his head. "Nope. No clue what this 'other case' could be."

John sighed.

"Oi, cheer up. At least the two of you make a nice couple." Lestrade chaffed, elbowing John.

John gave a weak laugh, giving him a funny look. "Yeah. We sort of do, don't we?"

[X]

"Remind me again why we're stopping by the flat?"

"To pick up Hamish, I've told you a hundred times."

"But why must he come shopping with us? It would reduce the errand time by thirty-two percent if we simply drove straight there." Sherlock huffed, leaning back in his seat and crossed his arms childishly.

John groaned, turning his head in the detective direction. "Sherlock, he's been cooped up in the flat all week, I want to give him some fresh air."

"That's a lie, I took him out with me the other day." Sherlock retorted.

"To the _morgue. _That doesn't count." John sighed.

The taxi came to a halt outside their flat and John gave him half of his pay, telling him that he'd give him the other half when they got to the grocery store. Sherlock followed suit, walking gruffly up the stairs.

"Oh, hello boys." Greeted their landlady with a beaming smile as she bounced a babbling Hamish on her lap. "Home so soon? I thought the two of you were going to do a bit of shopping?"

"We're on our way out again actually, just stopped by to pick up Hamish." John said as he walked over, reaching out for Mrs. Hudson to hand over the baby.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't mind looking after him a while longer, he's such a darling."

Sherlock was about to tell her that that would be great when John cut in. "No, no, it's fine. I think he'll like coming to the supermarket with us. We'll call you next time we need a sitter."

"Alright. You boys have fun." Mrs. Hudson said, getting up and heading down to her flat. "But remember, I'm your landlady not your babysitter."

[X]

John held Hamish against his chest as he and Sherlock walked through the aisles, having bought a few frivileties before going for the children's sections. Sherlock though, was still complaining as they made their way through the store.

"We've got his nappies and his formula, what more do we have to buy?" Sherlock groaned, fiddling with some sort of plastic toy on the shelves.

"He needs some more clothes, Sherlock. We can't just keep washing the same outfit."

The detective rolled his eyes, blindly tossing items into the cart.

"What are you doing?"

"You said he needs clothes, I'm simply fullfilling that need."

"You're not even looking at them! For god's sake, this one's _pink _and_ frilly."_

"How gender discriminating of you to think that."

"Sherlock..."

John gave a loud huff, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Look, just go off around he store on your own, I'll meet you at checkout in ten minutes." He said, putting back the girly clothes as he pushed the shopping cart, leaving Sherlock to his own business as he focused on shopping.

John was sifting through linens when a pretty woman with auburn hair tied in a loose bun came up to him with a small smile. "Baby shopping?" She asked, glancing kindly at Hamish as he wriggled around in the baby seat.

John turned to her, giving a tiny grin of his own as he looked her over. "Yeah. I suppose I'm sort of a new dad." He laughed, fiddling with a light blue suit that had a pattern of clouds with happy faces.

The woman nodded. "i remember when I had my first. My ex husband was a complete clot when it came to shopping." She said, glancing towards Sherlock who had ventured towards the frozen goods section, probably observing the icy condensation. "I see you're having the same problem with your husband."

John furrowed his brows, looking back at Sherlock and then at her. "Oh. We're not married. I'm not gay." He said, waving off the idea with a tiny, nervous smile. "No, I'm just sort of...helping him out I guess."

"Is that so?" The redhead asked, a smile tugging at her older features. "In that case, I'm Amelia. Nice to meet you... -"

"John. John Watson."

"Alright then John. Since we're both single perons, then perhaps we could chat ove coffee someday?" She asked, heavily suggesting a rendezvous.

John nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, we should."

The girl gave a wide grin, scribbling her phone number on a loose piece of paper and handed it to John. They exchanged their goodbyes just as Sherlock was tredding back over, looking at John curiously.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing." John said hastily before frowning, not entirely sure why his first instinct was to hide his and the woman's date from Sherlock. "I mean, you know. I've just got a date."

"I see." Sherlock muttered, eyeing the doctor curiously, a strange sensation nagging at his gut.

John swallowed, nodding his head. "Come on, let's finish the shopping." He said, pushing the kart along the rest of the aisles.

Sherlock followed him without much more complaining, staying silent. What was this odd feeling he was getting?

**Author's Note : Alright! Chapter 4 is out! A bit longer than the other's have been, I really pushed to make it decently long. And oooh, what is this? Sherlock and John seem to have hit a bump in the road of parenthood. Who is this Amelia character? What is her significance to the story? Probably nothing. But I guess you'll just have to find out in the next chapter of 'A Scandal On Baker Street'. Reviews always welcome. **


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